


Moments to Remember

by Ralkana



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Married Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, perfect day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 04:24:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10734063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: Phil Coulson's life is rarely a calm one, but sometimes, there is a moment of peace.





	Moments to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> For the Perfect Day Fest. When I heard about it, I realized it was an excellent excuse to write fluff, and since that's my very favorite thing to do, I couldn't resist.

 

"All operatives returned to base. Intel uplink commencing now."

It wasn't until Phil heard those words that the ball of nerves he carried in his gut during every op settled down, and he felt like he could breathe again. This op in Melbourne was simple and straightforward, but it was generally the simple and straightforward ones that went pear-shaped in the strangest, most explosive ways, and it was always more nervewracking to oversee an op from Command rather than being boots-on-the-ground.

Not that he let anyone see his nerves, ever. It was a point of pride.

"Good work, Agent Piper," he said, proud of the team he'd put together for this op. "Excellent work, everyone."

He swept his gaze around the room to include his support staff in the praise, ending with Jasper, who nodded when Phil caught his eye.

"Agent Sitwell will be conducting your debrief," Phil continued, "If there are no immediate questions or concerns."

He waited to hear the chorus of _no, sir_ before formally handing over command of the op to Jasper and heading back to his office to pick up his things.

A successful op with no incidents, injuries, or casualties was an excellent way to end the day -- or, actually, to start it, he realized, glancing at the clock to see that it was 0317.

He'd been on high alert in the command center for over ten hours, and now that the op was done, he was crashing, hard. He was exhausted, and he just wanted to be home, in bed with his husband. If he got home soon, he could curl up with Clint for a few hours before Clint had to get up and start his day.

Too tired to safely drive himself, and unwilling to deal with the hassle of public transportation when he was so wiped, he requested a driver for the trip across town. He used the time and the last of his fading energy to scrawl some notes and prep his report. He'd have to finish later, after some sleep, of course, but at least the first notes were down before his impressions and the sharpest of his memories faded.

The apartment was dark when he slipped inside, but Phil picked his way through the familiar layout with ease. Undoing his tie, he nudged the bedroom door open and then just stopped, all remaining tension from the op bleeding away at the sight of Clint curled in their bed, fast asleep.

The light from the hallway was dim, not giving him much more than a silhouetted impression of strong back muscles and powerful arms curled around Phil's pillow, but that was enough for every cell in Phil's body to feel inexorably drawn toward the bed.

Neither Clint nor Lucky -- ensconced in his dog bed in the warmest corner of the room -- woke as Phil undressed in the dark and got ready for bed. Phil smiled, remembering how both he and Clint had startled awake at the slightest movement the other had made, in the beginning, when they had first started sharing a bed. It meant more to Phil than he could say that Clint felt safe enough now to sleep like the dead in their bed. In their home.

Clint finally stirred as Phil slipped into bed and tugged his pillow free.

"Y'hm," he mumbled, and Phil gently shushed him. "W'time 'zit?"

"Middle of the night," Phil murmured. "Go back to sleep."

Clint yawned. "'vry'thn go 'kay?"

"Good op, no casualties," Phil whispered, turning on his side and shoving his pillow around until he was comfortable. "Go to sleep."

"Mmm, 'kay," Clint breathed, scooting closer and throwing an arm over Phil's chest to pull him close. Phil chuckled as Clint insinuated a leg between his, wriggling until he was snug against Phil's back, his nose buried in the hair at the nape of Phil's neck.

"Comfy?" Phil asked archly.

"Shh, go to sleep," Clint muttered, and Phil laughed again.

It only took a moment or two in the absolute dark that Clint preferred, with Clint wrapped around him like the cuddliest octopus and Lucky snuffling contentedly in the corner, for Phil to drift into deep and dreamless sleep.

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

Phil woke alone. Even as he rolled over and started to frown, he registered the heavenly scents of coffee and bacon, and the sound of Lucky happily crunching a no doubt generous bowl of kibble. And probably a strip or two of bacon, knowing Clint.

The room was dim, blackout curtains still drawn, but the light from the living room filtered down the hallway and through the partially open bedroom door. It felt like mid-morning, but Phil didn't bother to look at his phone to confirm it. Yawning, he ducked into the bathroom and then pulled on comfortable sweats and a faded ARMY tee before making his way to the kitchen.

Clint stood at the stove, barefoot and _also_ wearing a pair of Phil's comfortable sweats. He was shirtless, and Phil leaned against the doorjamb, appreciatively watching the play of muscles in Clint's back as he turned the bacon and flipped -- 

"Pancakes?" Phil asked excitedly as he crossed the kitchen.

Clint turned his head with a grin, and Phil stifled a laugh. Clint's hair was half wild spikes and half mashed flat. Apparently the lure of pancakes and bacon had drowned out the call of the comb.

"I figured a successful op with no casualties deserved pancakes," Clint told him, flipping another perfectly golden circle onto an already towering stack of them.

"It's an excellent reward, and I'd feel bad that my team isn't getting any, but that means more pancakes for us," Phil smiled, stepping closer to wrap his arms around Clint from behind. He laughed, realizing that Clint was shirtless, but also wearing an apron. Apparently some mistakes only had to be made once, especially if they involved sizzling hot oil spatter.

"Good morning," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of Clint's mouth.

"Morning," Clint answered with a happy hum, turning his head to catch Phil's lips in a real kiss.

The bacon popped and Clint jumped and swore, scowling at Phil as he laughed again.

"Stop distracting me or I'll burn breakfast," Clint warned, nodding with his chin toward the coffeepot. "Pour the coffee, that'll keep us both out of trouble."

"Happy to," Phil said, reaching for their mugs. He'd slept a good five hours or so, but he could still feel the tendrils of fatigue pulling at him.

Comfortable sharing space, they moved easily around each other, though Lucky darting into their paths to chase down stray bits of kibble provided added excitement.

Soon enough they were seated cozily at their small kitchen table, legs intertwined as they enjoyed their pancakes. Lucky lay mournfully on the tile beside the table, his head on his paws, single eye casting soulful looks at both of them as he hoped in vain for a pancake of his own.

"What time are you going in?" Phil asked, suddenly realizing how late it was, and remembering that it was Friday, not the weekend. Keeping track of the days was never easy in the middle of an active op.

"I'm not. Took a day," he elaborated as Phil raised an eyebrow.

Clint then shoved half a pancake in his mouth, and Phil snorted at the sight, shaking his head.

"Wait -- you did?" Phil asked, smiling happily as Clint's words registered.

Clint shrugged, staring down at his plate as he ripped a piece of bacon into tiny bits. "We haven't been on the same schedule for a while, what with me being out of the country and then you on this op. I -- I figured I could help keep you awake, get your sleep schedule back on track, you know?" he muttered.

Phil set down his coffee mug, swallowing around the sudden ache in his chest. It was as close as Clint would come to admitting he'd missed Phil, and Phil knew it. It was rough being on different schedules, and he'd missed Clint just as much. A day with his husband, to relax and reconnect, sounded perfect. Possibly even a weekend, though neither of them would even voice the possibility, too afraid to jinx themselves.

He reached across the table to squeeze Clint's fingers, ignoring the bacon grease when Clint turned his hand under Phil's to squeeze back.

"That's a great idea," Phil said as he picked his coffee cup back up. "I'm really glad you thought of it." 

They passed the rest of the meal comfortably, Phil quickly running through the just-completed op for Clint. Going over it again helped him settle things in his mind for the report he'd need to finish soon, and Clint always had excellent questions and observations.

When there was no more coffee to linger over, they cleaned the table together, making short work of the dishes as Phil washed and Clint dried.

"Thank you for breakfast," Phil told Clint as they finished. "It was great."

"Yeah, well, I know you, so I know you didn't take any of the meal breaks you're supposed to in Command, and you probably haven't had anything since yesterday morning that wasn't coffee or a protein bar."

Indignant, Phil stared at him, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Am I wrong?"

"Listen to you, Mr. I've-got-six-MREs-and-a-bottle-of-water-I'll-be-fine-in-this-perch-for-a-month!"

"That's different," Clint grumbled, and Phil laughed, catching Clint's hands and leaning in.

The kiss they shared was brief but sweet, and also slightly sticky with maple syrup. Phil's pulse jumped as he leaned back and Clint licked his lips.

"You're a good husband," Phil told him, reaching up to smooth down the wildest spikes of Clint's hair. He smiled as Clint's eyes lit with shy pride, a light flush pinking his cheeks.

"The best," he said cockily, but Phil could tell how much the quiet praise meant to him.

"So what do you have planned for us on this unexpected day off together?" Phil asked, sliding his hands down to cradle Clint's hips and tug him closer. Clint's breath hitched at Phil's touch against his bare skin, his throat clicking as he swallowed.

"You're the planner in this deal," Clint said, his voice dropping to a distracted murmur as Phil moved in closer to press a kiss to his jaw. "I just..."

He trailed off with a groan as Phil nipped at his earlobe.

"You just what?" Phil asked, kissing his way across Clint's collarbone.

"Huh?" Clint asked blankly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of Phil's head, the other clutching at Phil's waist.

"You were saying?" Phil laughed.

"I was?"

Phil laughed again. "I'm pretty sure you were leaving today's activities up to me, and if that's the case, I'm sure I can come up with _something_ for us to do," he said, catching Clint's hand to lead him back to bed.

"You always have the best ideas," Clint said with a grin, hurrying to keep up.

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

With a deep, satisfied breath, Phil clicked _send_ on the email containing his report, and then shut down his email program. That was enough work for the day. He glanced over at the other end of the couch where Clint lounged, sleepy and sated, watching TV with the sound off and the captions on, one hand drifting lazily through Lucky's fur as the dog dozed with his head in Clint's lap.

Phil just stared for a moment, wondering whether someone who took a picture of him right at this very moment would be able to see the hearts in his eyes. Together for nearly a decade, married for almost a third of that, and still, sometimes all he wanted to do was stare at Clint and wonder how he'd gotten so damn lucky.

Eventually, Clint twitched at the staring, glancing over with a raised eyebrow.

"Let's go for a ride," Phil said impulsively.

"A ride?" Clint asked, stretching and giving Lucky an apologetic pat as he whined when the movement disturbed him.

"It's a beautiful day. We have no plans. Lola needs a run. Let's just go."

Clint's eyes lit up at the mention of Lola, and he scrambled off the couch, practically sprinting down the hall toward their bedroom. "Give me five minutes to get dressed!" he called back. "No, two!"

Laughing, Phil stood up to get his keys.

They dealt with the minor hassle of freeing Lola from the garage where Phil kept her, and then fueling her up, and then of course, they had to navigate the always present traffic to get out of the city, but soon, the road before them opened up and Phil hit the gas, grinning at Clint's whoop of delight. Lola purred under his hands, and Phil laughed with pure joy.

The weather was perfect. Unseasonably warm for late April, and Phil reveled in the feeling of the sun on his skin, the wind in his hair. He'd look like a freckled dandelion when they stopped, he knew, but he couldn't bring himself to care, especially since Clint was smiling widely at him, eyes crinkled with affection and fondness.

Perfect moments -- perfect _days_ like this -- were so rare, and that made them all the more precious. This time was a gift, and Phil was going to make sure he enjoyed every second of it.

**END**


End file.
